Green Eyes
by DistrictNineAndThreeQuarters
Summary: Three one-shots of Severus Snape: thoughts on what truly counts and the green eyes that have haunted him since childhood. Also, I don't own anything; it all belongs to Queen Rowling, the creator of childhoods.


A/N: This is my first fanfiction, so you'll have to excuse any mistakes, mislabelings, etc. R&R, or go to the kitchen and make yourself some hot cocoa; whichever would make you happier. Thanks for taking the time :)

~Three one-shots of Snape- thoughts on what truly counts and the green eyes that have haunted him since childhood.~

* * *

His lithe fingers clutched the glossy photograph. His onyx eyes bore into the scene it depicted, scrutinising even the most minute, insignificant details. The twinkle of glee in the groom's hazel eyes. The lilies placed all around. Lilies, how appropriate.

Lily Evans, who would only be an Evans for a short while longer, stood before the infamous James Potter. Prongs, the arrogant Marauder she had sworn she would loathe until the day she died.

Her dark red hair was pulled back and elaborately styled, revealing a pretty face with a kind, soft sort of aura about it. Yet she refused to speak a word to the man observing the photograph. Once or twice, the man caught a glimpse of her eyes as they flickered towards him. Eyes as green as emeralds.

Secluded in his dungeon-turned-potions room, Severus Snape felt a familiar lump of longing and despair rise in his throat. The photograph fluttered neatly to the ground, but the bride and groom paid it no mind.

Somewhere, Lily Potter was happy without him. She had never forgiven him for the Mudblood incident, his foolish slip of the tongue, though it was an honest mistake. But in all honesty, he had never forgiven himself.

Severus retrieved the picture from the floor almost reluctantly. Lily's eyes still sparkled bright with joy, green as the Slytherin crest he had once hoped she would wear.

'She's happy,' he reminded himself sternly. 'That's what you wanted, and that's what you got.'

"I loved her enough to let her go," he cried to no one, his shaky voice echoing in the frigid room. "Does that count?"

He was answered by a ruthless silence that told him everything and nothing all at once. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he pulled his wand from the sleeve of his robes and vanished the picture into nothingness.

* * *

"Alohomora," he whispered, as though afraid speaking in a normal volume would cause He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to spring from the shadows.

Quietly, he pushed open the front door of the house. Godric's Hollow was silent as death in the middle of the night. Life continued on as usual for the other inhabitants; the general public had yet to be informed of the events that had transpired here not an hour ago.

"Lumos," Severus breathed, holding his lit wand aloft like a torch.

The floor of the living room was littered with a few pieces of broken glass and china. The light of Severus's wand illuminated the colourless skin and blank, glassy eyes of James Potter. The Marauder stared, mesmerised by the ceiling he couldn't see. One lens of his glasses was cracked.

"You made her happy," he told the corpse. His voice was filled with spiteful, reluctant admiration.

He knelt down to remove the broken glasses. "Occulus reparo."

A small token of gratitude for the man who achieved what Severus never could. He set the glasses back on James before hurrying up the stairs, his black robes billowing around him and his eyes occasionally falling upon one of the pictures hung on the wall.

He spotted a square, golden frame displaying a photograph of a gurgling infant on a toy broomstick. The boy's toes skimmed the ground and James stood behind him, holding his small, chubby hands.

"Harry James Potter," he hissed, dragging his nails over the picture. "She died for you, you know."

Severus tore himself from the image and made his way to Harry's bedroom. He turned the doorknob slowly, braving himself for the worst. When he opened the door, his eyes saw first not the crying child in the crib but the one thing he'd desperately hoped they'd been mistaken about.

He staggered against the doorframe and dropped to his knees beside the body of Lily Potter. Her auburn hair fanned out on the floor, a few shards of glass from the nearby broken window glittering in the strands. Her eyes were closed, but he couldn't bear to see them lifeless and glazed. He grabbed her hand, shivering from the coldness of her skin.

"I loved you enough to let you go, Lily," he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Please tell me that counts."

Baby Harry cried out louder, his weeping piercing Severus's ears. Surely he had no concept of what had happened; he was too young. He would have no recollection of this night, no memory of a devastated Severus Snape clutching his mother's freezing corpse, sobbing and pleading with whatever powers there might be.

"It should have been me! Anybody but her; I'll do anything!" he pleading, his irrational cries of anguish echoing through the house.

"Let me redeem myself," he begged the merciless quiet. "Let me be forgiven, please…"

And from the back of his frantic, grief-stricken mind, a long-forgotten moment remerged. He turned to the boy, his howls becoming whispers.

"I will protect you. Not for you, but for Lily," he vowed to the bewildered infant.

Baby Harry fell silent and stared into the ebony eyes of the unfamiliar man. A fresh sob rose in Severus's throat as he peered into Harry's eyes.

They were as green as the curse that had murdered his mother.

* * *

Severus was fighting a losing battle with the tears of agony he was trying to restrain. Finally, he gave in. A tear rolled down his cheek and he clutched the hand of the boy kneeling by his side. Blood streamed from the wound on his neck, wetting the fabric of his robes and literally draining him.

He felt the life fading from him, but he was satisfied. He had done everything he could to keep Harry safe. He felt nothing for the boy, no. But in his eyes, he had redeemed himself. He had kept this piece of Lily alive, done his best to keep him in one piece for seventeen years. Lily had died for him, and Severus would gladly follow in her noble, selfless footsteps.

"Look…at…me," he demanded weakly. His time was almost up.

Harry obliged, his emerald eyes locking onto Severus's obsidian ones. He gazed almost searchingly, as if perusing a book for a specific line.

'You have your mother's eyes…' Severus thought to himself. He couldn't find the strength to speak. He didn't have the heart to remind Harry of this; the poor boy must've heard this enough.

After a moment, something in the depths of the dark eyes seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, blank, and empty. The hand holding Harry fell to the floor, and Severus moved no more.


End file.
